\n
We\u2019d lately been buying old puzzles from the flea market. Any picture was fine as long as the seller guaranteed no missing pieces, which they always did. Of course, most of the puzzles were incomplete. The boxes were full of mismatches and deficit. People will say anything to make a buck. I knew this disappointed my son, but I never hid it from him. We\u2019d just finished working on a pair of whales floating in a square of ocean.\u00a0 Jigsaw-shapes of our brown carpet showed through the blue. \u201cPeople can be greedy and dishonest,\u201d I told him. \u201cYou should get used to that about us.\u201d<\/p>\n
We lifted the puzzle with spatulas like we always did and sandwiched it between sheets of clear shelf paper. Hanging the puzzles on the wall was my son\u2019s idea. He wanted to bring the outside in. I said, \u201cShould the whales live here? Or there?\u201d A thousand pieces waved in my hands.<\/p>\n
He said, \u201cWhales live in the water.\u201d He was nine. We\u2019d arranged the puzzles by theme throughout the house. Vehicles we hung near the door to the garage. Water was above the television set. Forest, which we defined as any picture with the color green in it, was a long, thin row below the window on the far wall.
\nI squeezed myself behind the television among the dust and black cables. I hung the puzzle in an empty spot using double-sided tape and four nails I hammered into the wall with the spine of a book. \u201cHow does that seem?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNatural,\u201d my son said, and he was right.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll go again next week,\u201d I said, \u201cif you want to.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a sun like a thousand horses stampeding in dust. We walked down rows of electronic devices\u2014VCRs, cassette decks, digital alarm clocks with built-in radios. Noisemakers from the ancient history of ten years ago. I bought a clock that told time an hour slow. \u201cWe\u2019ll take this one,\u201d I said, \u201cbecause it makes the days longer.\u201d The seller was a tall man with a wild beard and a missing hand. He pinched my money with his prosthesis and made change. \u201cWhy on earth would you want to stretch this out any longer?\u201d he asked, and swept his good hand in front of him, covering everything we could see and everything we could not.<\/p>\n
I was tempted to scold him for talking like this in front of my son, tell him not everyone shared such a gloomy worldview. Instead I asked about his hand. \u201cThe war,\u201d he said. He lifted his arm, showed us every side of the dull plastic and glistening metal. He winked at my son.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich war?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cPick one,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Two women beside us had since started to fight over an old popcorn maker. It was a heavy-looking appliance with a cracked hood and a melted side. One of the women pulled on the cord. Her turquoise earrings swung in circles. The other woman held on tight to the base. Together they pulled the popcorn maker into pieces. We all looked to the seller. With his good hand, this King Solomon stroked his beard.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow you both owe me five bucks,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
A low-hanging canopy of green, blue and shiny black tarps shook and snapped in the wind. My son stopped in front of a table with a number of plastic VHS cases lined up in neat rows. There was a television on the table. Two men sat on folding chairs. One of them smoked. A pornographic film was playing. The man who was not smoking turned slightly toward the television and leaned into it like he was protecting it from us. A giant chandelier of a scrotum filled the screen. My son said, \u201cWhat is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt represents one of many different types of love,\u201d I said. \u201cDon\u2019t worry about the details for now.\u201d He took my hand. A woman\u2019s face appeared on the screen. She was a rare animal who understood its inevitable extinction.<\/p>\n
I bought playing cards, a nozzle for my garden hose, and a book on the construction of the Hoover Dam.<\/p>\n
I bought a staple gun. We were primitive man. We were inventing the tools of our own evolution. Gospel music was playing a few rows over and we made our way toward it, slowly.<\/p>\n
We came upon a table of Jesuses. There were hundreds of them. Jesus on the cross. Jesus the shepherd of lambs. Jesus kneeling before a lumpy basket of fish. It was a whole city of Jesus. Each one of them was a different color. Some were upright. Some lay on their backs in neatly arranged rows, crucifixes head-to-toe. An old woman sat at the table. She held her shaking hand straight out at my son. \u201cDo you know the story of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHello,\u201d I answered for him. Behind her was a large sign strung over her booth with brown twine. It was crooked and printed with large black letters. TURN TO THE LIGHT! it said, and just below that: THE DARK IS UP ON US! I thought the error was funny but my son seemed confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe dark is what?\u201d he asked the woman.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe are soldiers,\u201d she said, \u201cfor the Lord.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d said my son.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe devil is everywhere,\u201d she said. I thought of the tables we had seen so far, and what I knew about the world, and figured she was probably right about that.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d I said, \u201cfight the good fight.\u201d<\/p>\n
I bought a purple Jesus on a cross. My son held it by the arm as we walked until he got tired of its uncomfortable shape and put it in the bag with our staple gun and the sweatshirt he\u2019d worn that morning when it was still cool out.<\/p>\n
We passed old telephones, dolls, collectible sports cards and car parts. Milk cartons overflowing with bicycle chains, gardening gloves wrapped in plastic, athletic socks and knock-off Zippo lighters. \u201cOne day I want to buy one of everything,\u201d my son said. \u201cJust to do it.\u201d<\/p>\n
This seemed to me like a good plan, but I don\u2019t believe in giving too much encouragement too early. It can spoil a person. So I said, \u201cThere\u2019s a world to see. Try that first.\u201d<\/p>\n
I found a record player. The seller introduced himself as Gus, but his hat said Bill. \u201cThis works,\u201d I said to my son and pointed to the device, \u201cby a process involving a tiny needle in this part here, bouncing and sliding off grooves in the record, which you can see here. Think of a finger in a canyon making echoes on rocks. Isn\u2019t that right?\u201d I asked Gus.<\/p>\n
He said, \u201cIf you say so.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen it is,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d I said, \u201chang on. I don\u2019t know if I like your reasoning, Gus. What\u2019s more important: the right answer or how you got there?\u201d<\/p>\n
Gus raised his hat and scratched the top of his head with his thumb. \u201cThat record player is ten bucks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo thanks,\u201d I said. \u201cThanks all the same. I just wanted to teach my son a lesson.\u201d<\/p>\n
We visited the table where in the past we\u2019d had the greatest luck with puzzles, but it had been replaced by something else. A new seller had moved in with piles of knockoff purses. My son was not pleased, but I reminded him that nothing can last, which is both good and bad because it means you will never feel anything for very long.<\/p>\n
Even though our hearts weren\u2019t in it, we took a puzzle off the wall at home, broke it apart and reassembled it. When my son started to yawn, I suggested we sit on the couch and rest a while. We sunk deep into the cushions. Outside the window, the heat left the day and the tree in our yard cast a long shadow. The first few of the neighbors\u2019 cars were coming home. We drifted off into sleep, and I thought of whales and blue seas until our eyes were closed and the dark was enormous, and we slept a sleep so big it swallowed us whole.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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